Credence
by megan1000
Summary: Takes place during the events of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. A story about if another witch or wizard found Credence before Graves did.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. An alternate story for Credence if another witch or wizard had found him instead.**

Margaret wasn't the only witch or wizard attracted to these spectacles They were worrisome and some felt the need to watch the development of these things. Afraid and worried and unable to look away. The need to help and no idea how. It was like watching a car accident, not knowing if anyone has been hurt or if it'll cause a pile up.

She was worried and couldn't tear herself away from the small crowd. She figured that by staying she could prevent anything horrendous from occurring. She didn't want anyone to be hurt out of fear.

Margaret watches as Mary Lou warns the crowd on the street and begs them to be vigilant in uncovering the truth. She looks over the crowd and stifles a shiver as the cold wind of November picks up on the gray street. The heavy long coats in the crowd resist the urge to flutter and sway and instead stick close to the lukewarm bodies. It was only midday but the crowd is starting to feel the chill of late fall.

A few bodies drift off and Mary Lou grows louder. She doesn't seem to like losing the crowd to the cold. She starts to become listless and frowns deeply before picking up the speed of her impromptu speech. Her body becomes impatient as the crowd is quickly lost. Margret takes a step back with the people but continues to watch the woman closely. Only two people remain with the girl, a short blond woman and an awkward young man who trains his attention on the cracked cement.

With a last huff Mary Lou shoves a handful of pamphlets into the mans hands and storms off with the other woman.

Margaret watches the exchange from a comfortable distance. With his head held down he starts handing out the pamphlets to passerby's on the street. It feels strange to her, why he is doing this. She steps closer to him without much thought. He's not a No-Maj, she can tell that at least.

 _'But why is he with her? Passing out these pamphlets? He must be a squib. I can't see another way, not at his age.'_

She reaches him at last and takes in his appearance fully. He is tall and slim but holds his body in a way to make himself as small as possible, _'like a submissive dog afraid of punishment.'_ He is dressed nicely, even his black hair very well kept. _'She must be very strict with him'_ she assumes. He notices her and extends a hand to her, clutching lightly to white paper.

Her gaze is drawn to the hand. White raised scars and screaming red welts litter his skin. She takes the paper carefully and notices the state of his injury stained palms as they are moved into view.

"You stayed," he mutters very quietly, not lifting his eyes from the cold ground.

"I was afraid you wouldn't notice." Her gaze doesn't move as his eyes dash quickly to her face before landing back to their previous place. She allows the pamphlet to fall to the ground as she lightly takes his hand into hers and studies his palm. "What is your name?" she asks quietly.

Before he answers rain starts to fall onto his shoulders. Margret grabs his hand and pulls him into a covered alleyway. It feels colder than before and he can't seem to draw his eyes away from the dampening floor. His pamphlets are left were he stood a moment before and the soggy heap seems to fill him with guilt and fear.

She notices his gaze and takes his hand fully into hers. The touch grounds him and he avoids her eyes.

"What is your name?" she asks again and watches him swallow before moving his lips in answer.

"Credence" his voice only just above a whisper.

"Credence," she repeats "does it hurt?" she asks pulling his hand further into her view. He nods his head in response. She doesn't need to ask who did this, or for how long. She could see it all in the lines of his paper mache skin. His hand feels cold and starts to tremble.

She is uncertain as what to do. _'He's not a No-Maj, I can feel that much. There is no law against this, but..'_

"What is Mary Lou to you?"

"You mean Ma?" His gaze shifts back to the ruined pamphlets.

"But she isn't your real mother?" He looks guilty and cold.

"She takes care of me." He answers but looks uncertain.

"Do you believe the things she says?" Margaret asks, mulling over what she can do; how far she is willing to go. _'He's a Squib living with an anti-magic No-maj. This isn't right. This can't stand. The ministry must know about this? Isn't there a registry? How can someone fall through the cracks like this?'_

He doesn't answer, the guilty feeling grows in the pit of his stomach and she can feel it through his skin. She's almost surprised that he doesn't move his hand away.

She holds his hand a little firmer and brushes her fingers over his palm, still considering what to do. He flinches in pain but doesn't try to move away.

Her heart can't take watching Credence in such a state. She doesn't know the boundary, she doesn't know where to draw the line. The sand seems thin and fickle.

She finally lets go of his hand feeling a little dejected . The rain seems to pick up and she finally lets a small shiver ring through her body. Its colder than she anticipated the day becoming.

Credence seems disappointed and takes a step back from the warmth of her kind body. The rain doesn't seem to want to let up. She watches him closely.

"Are you cold?" she finally asks after a moment of silence.

"Yes" he says simply and Margaret thinks for a long moment.

 _'I can obliviate him if things go badly, besides he needs a chance. This isn't breaking any laws I'm aware of.'_

She takes his arm and to his surprise the scenery changes completely around him. Wide eyed he looks at her then around the room. The fireplace is already going and has cooked the room to the perfect temperature. "It's not much" she says gesturing to the apartment as a duster fly's slowly around the room.

"How.?." he starts but realization soon takes over him. "A witch." He takes a moment to get the word out.

"Yes." She replies. "I hope that won't be a problem." She says somewhat sternly.

Credence shakes his head quickly, not really knowing what else to do. Ma would be so angry with him if she knew. He notices guiltily that he'd rather be with this young witch than his own mother. He feels no fear or anger towards her, not the way he does Mary Lue. He remembers weakly as she sits him down next to her on a soft couch that he doesn't even know this woman's name.

He finally looks at her for more than just a glance. She has short curled auburn hair and light green eyes. He's never seen eyes like this. She is young, her skin soft and wrinkle free. He looks closer and finds shallow freckles littering her skin, almost too light to be visible. His gaze is drawn down to his hands when she takes them into her own again.

His skin stings at the touch. He watches her in wonder as she studies his palms once more. She traces her fingers over every injury, old and new, leaving a warmth behind. Her touch is soft and firm, he feels safer than he can ever remember feeling. When her skin leaves his he lifts his hands and looks them over, turning them this way and that.

The pain is gone, his skin is healed. He looks at her amazed. The warmth of the room permeates his body. She watches him closely.

He slowly draws his attention back to his recovered hands. He takes a long moment to speak. The air is getting stiff and Margaret decides to open a small window.

"Why?" he finally asks.

She sits back down next to him. She looks around the room before looking at him again.

"Credence," she starts, not really knowing how to start, or what's going on even. "Do you remember anything about your life before Mary Lue?"

Credence shakes his head and brings his gaze back to the carpet once more. "No" he allows only that word to leave his mouth.

Margaret sighs and reevaluates her plan for a moment. "I saw you today," she starts. He doesn't move to look at her. "You're not like them. I can sense it. You, you're something else."

"I am?" he asks hopeful.

"But not a wizard." She says quickly before she got his hopes up too far. "You're too old," she says "If you were a wizard, by this age. Suppressing it for so long. The magic would have destroyed you by now. So it's not possible."

"Then what am I?" He asks her, his eyes trained on her left knee.

"We call them Squibs. I think your parents must have been wizards but you were born without magic."

Credence knits his brows together and curls in on himself a little more.

"Its not common. You can't do magic but you still belong with us, in the wizarding world, not being hurt by a No-Maj." she finishes, telling him everything that she could infer from the situation. The rain doesn't let up and a barrier prevents the water from climbing threw the open window.

"There are people like you living productive lives, some even work in the ministry. You can be a part of our community." She watches him straighten up a little bit. She places her hand gently on his back. "I know that your life hasn't been great. I know that you've been mistreated, but..." Credence turns to her. "I promise that I will do everything I can to help you get the life you deserve. It won't always be easy but I believe in you."

"You only just met me, I don't even know your name. Why are you willing to help me?"

She looks into his eyes as her holds her gaze for the first time. "No one deserves to be forgotten, no one."

 **Disclaimer: Thanks for reading. More coming soon, please leave your thoughts in the comments.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

Margaret decides to take Credence with her to work the next day. She doesn't want to leave him alone in her apartment. She brings him to the wizard district in the middle of New York.

Credence's eyes grew big as she shuffles across the cobblestone in a smelly alleyway. The air around them grows stiffer and stiffer as they move, each place Margaret walks lights up with a yellow light. Soon they seem to be walking through jelly for a few steps. They emerge finally and Credence is taken completely aback.

Everything from the colors of the street to the weather has changed in an instance as they stepped through that barrier. Margaret speaks no words and Credence follows behind her, afraid to lose sight of the young woman in such a foreign land.

As they stroll down the busy street Credence looks around with hungry eyes. A smile is slow to spread across his face but once one finally does it stains his lips.

He watches every passerby. He reads every sign with complete amazement. He walks a few steps behind her but makes every effort to not lose her in the large crowd.

"I didn't know that there would be so many wizards." Credence finally says to Margaret after they walk through a heavy glass door. They hear a bell chime despite the absence of said item above the door. The young man can't stop his eyes from wandering around the room. The shelves are thick and old. Dust stained bottles litter the cabinets to his right. In front of him are vials of every shape and color he can imagine.

An old man peers over from behind one of the shelves when he hears the chime. Margaret looks over to the man and smiles gently. "Good morning Mr. Oestrum."

Oestrum nods and gestures towards Credence. "Who's your friend Margaret?"

"His name is Credence. Umm..." Margaret shifts a little. "He's a new friend."

"Why is here before the shop opens?" Oestrum looks at her skeptically then trains his eyes on Credence. Credence decides to study the hardwood a little closer.

"You've had that help wanted sign in the window for weeks." Margaret starts. "Credence can't do any magic, but I know that the help we need doesn't require that. We mostly need someone who can sweep the floors and stock shelves. I've been picking up the slack lately but this apprenticeship won't be very useful if I'm spending all my time scrubbing cauldrons. I know that Credence can be a big help."

Oestrum looks over at the sign in the window then back at Credence. "He does seem quite interested in the floors." Oestrum stands for a moment in thought. "It's not a rigorous job, I don't care who has it. And if you have this much confidence in him... well I can't really say no. But you're responsible in training him."

Margaret smiles widely and thanks her boss. She had talked to Credence about this last night but neither of them had too much hope. Credence wanted to be accepted into this society like he never was in his own before. A job he knew would be a good start. It was beyond his expectations that he would get to work with Margaret though. He starts to feel a little less nervous and risks a glance up at his new boss.

"Thank you" he manages to say.

Oestrum offers him a small smile before he hobbles to the door. "I have to pick some stuff up before we open. Show him around and explain his duties Margaret." The bell rings at a different pitch when the door closes behind Oestrum.

Margaret takes a moment to turn to Credence and gestures to the room. "As you might remember from what we talked about last night this is a potions shop. There are a few of these here but this is one of the larger and less specialized ones. We sell a wide variety of potions and keep a large stock. Customers will be restricted to this room and this will be where you will spend a large part of the day." Credence pays close attention to her. "I don't expect you to understand everything right off the bat so I'll start you off with a few responsibilities and then increase them when it seems you have gotten used to the ones you already have." She decides to start him off with a tour of the shop.

"These are the more harmless potions." Margaret explains to Credence. "We keep most potions in another room behind the counter." she leads him to the thick wooden counter. She moves behind it and through a door. They enter a large room filled with rows and rows of shelves.

Potions line cases with only number markers to indicate the potion and price. A book is splayed open in the front of room. It sits atop a tall table. He figures pretty easily that its an index of the potions. Upon a closer look he can see that it is also used to indicate the stock. "When a customer requests something not in the front of the store it can usually be found in here."

She leads him through the room until they find themselves at the back wall. She slides her finders gently across the wallpaper until a door appears. She opens it and Credence takes in the sight of a messy potions room. About five cauldrons sit atop a large slab of concrete. They are empty and dirty. He notices clean ones lining the far wall of the room. Empty vials fill the left wall and odd items fill the right wall. A large sink sits in the middle of the slab.

The floor of this room is uneven with many stains and dents in the wood. He can smell dust and ammonium in this room.

"This is where the potions are brewed. Some things are only made here upon request." Margaret backs him out of the room and closes the door firmly. She leads him back to the front of the store. She leads him to a closet tucked into the corner. She hands him a broom. "The shop opens in about an hour so we need to get it ready before it does. You can just sweep the floors today, that probably whats been neglected the most lately." She points out everything that he'll need in the closet. "I'll need you to start in here. When you are done you can move into the store room. That room is larger than you may have noticed and might take up a large amount of time." she spends a few more minutes explaining what is expected of him today.

Credence watches her lips as she speaks. "I'll be in the back room getting things ready for Mr. Oestrum until we open the shop, then I'll be helping customers until we close. If you have any questions just ask me."

Credence nods his head slowly.

"Well I guess we should get started now." Margaret says and leaves the room. Before she closes the door she looks back at Credence, he's already working hard at the floors.

The work day seems to go fast. Credence was able to finish what he needed to do and Oestrum even complimented him on the state of the floors. Margaret pats him on the back before she slides on her winter coat.

"Are you tired?" Margaret asks as they step onto the streets. Its already dark and the street lights cast large shadows over the street.

"No" Credence says.

"You did a really great job Credence."

Credence stops walking. No ones ever told him that before, It makes his chest feel warm hearing that from Margaret.

She turns around and looks at him concerned. "Are you okay?"

He nods his head, not really being able to say anything in response. The only thing that stops Margaret's worry is the small smile that forms on his lips. She takes his arm and walks him cheerfully down the street.

"You must be hungry? What do you want for dinner?"

Credence walks a little closer to her. Her body is warmer than he expected. "Anything" he finally says. She didn't expect a real answer so she doesn't argue.

The street is cold and still a little full of wizards. After he passes through the barrier he feels even colder. It makes it more pronounce to him how warm Margaret is against his body. He decides that when he gets his first pay check that he'll get a proper winter coat.

The apartment feels toasty when they finally reach it. Credence's bed is still made on the couch. They left so early that morning that there was little to be done other than breakfast. But this evening promised a better meal as he watches ingredients fly across the room at the flick of her wand. She's not used to cooking for more than one person so she finds herself having the adjust the recipes that she has memorized. But the meal soon sits on the table with little effort.

It's been a long since Credence could eat a meal before first dishing it out to all of his siblings. The gruel was always cold by the time it was his turn. He would never complain.

Margaret's food is a stark contrast to what he has become used to after so many years. It is warm and fresh and filled with love. It is hard for him to finish because it makes him feel too full. But still he finds his plate empty before he even notices. A second helping dishes itself onto the plate.

It is late before the meal is cleared and the dishes start to dip themselves into soapy water. After Credence has tucked himself into the couch and closed his eyes Margaret brushes her hand over his head in a caring fashion. Credence is awake, her hand feels warm against his cold body. She finds it hard to move away.

 **Disclaimer: Thank you for continuing to read this far, please let me know what you think of the story so far.**


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